Lowest Score in Dad's Family Love App

My father, Daniel Jacobson, teams up with the elders in my family to launch the Family app. Every child's behavior is converted into points, and those points determine who inherits the family's wealth. As the least favored daughter in the family, I am one of the first people forced to use it. "You earn one point for greeting your parents. Massaging shoulders or washing feet gives you ten points. Handing over your entire paycheck gets you 1,000 points. This is my original digital system for measuring good behavior." If I dare complain even once, or if I rank last on the scoreboard, Dad humiliates me relentlessly in the family group chat. He even forces me to kneel and wash the feet of whoever has the highest score as an apology. He looks at my hands that are red and scalded from the hot water and sighs. Then, his expression turns resolute again as he says, "I know it hurts now, but this is for your own good. A rough diamond has to be cut and polished before it can sparkle. I'm helping to smooth away your rough edges so your future will be smoother. "The points system is my greatest achievement. It's the deepest expression of a father's love." Today is Independence Day. It's also our family's annual scoreboard finalizing day. Dad invites all our relatives over. In front of everyone, he plans to announce that I, the child who ranks last, will be disowned. He wants everyone to see what happens to anyone who dares challenge his authority. "I'm doing this for the good of our family. Without rules, there can be no order. And without a strict upbringing, you won't build up the perfect character. One day, you'll understand my good intentions." But, Dad... I have already ended my own life by overdosing on some medicine. Right now, my lifeless body lies cold in the room upstairs, waiting for you to uncover it with your own hands. Chapter 1 "This isn't punishment. It's love—the deep, unwavering love of a father!" My father, Daniel Jacobson, stood before the memorial plaques with his hands pinned behind his back. Below the raised platform sat our relatives, all of them silent. The Family app's scoreboard was shown on the large screen. My name had been circled. I'd scored the lowest on the board. Pointing at my name, Dad exclaimed loudly, "A complacent, unambitious person like this is not worthy of being my child! I know you all think I'm being cruel." He raised his voice so that it reverberated through the chapel. "But a diamond in the rough demands to be mercilessly shaped and polished until it shines! I'm crushing her pride today so she can survive!" The antique clock in the corner of the chapel struck nine. It was judgment time. His words cut off. Dad frowned and glanced at the door. No one stood there. "Where is she?" The relatives' whispers grew to a clamor. "Erik." Dad turned to my older brother, Erik Jacobson, the model child with charm and brains. "Have her come down." Erik immediately rose to his feet and gave an obedient nod. I watched as he took the steps up the wooden staircase beside the chapel, the familiar lines of his silhouette bringing back memories from three mornings ago. As the member with the lowest score on the Family app scoreboard, I'd been the only one standing that day while the rest of the family ate breakfast. On the dining table was a spread of warm milk, scrambled eggs, and golden-brown toast. Dad had been slowly slicing through the scrambled eggs on his plate. He didn't even spare me a glance. "Rules are rules." No sooner had he said this than the phone in my pocket sounded—not with a call, but with the app's mechanical voice that rang loud and clear. "User: Andrea Jacobson. Total score: -78. Ranking: Last place. Breakfast privileges for the day are revoked. Initiating punishment protocol: Memorize an excerpt from the 'Florilegia of the Filial.'" Erik had met my eyes, which shone with a silent plea for help, and thoughtfully suggested, "Dad, perhaps Andrea could sit and memorize the excerpt instead of remaining standing." Dad had glanced at him and said nothing. A second later, Erik's phone buzzed as well. It had been a warning from Dad. Erik held his tongue at once, lowering his head numbly. Unsatisfied, Dad added to my punishment, forbidding me to sit until I'd memorized the excerpt from the Florilegia of the Filial 300 times. Erik's footsteps came from the staircase, and he stopped before my tightly shut bedroom door. Chapter 2 The few heavy knocks on the door were met with silence on the other side. "Andrea, Dad wants you in the chapel. The rest of the family's waiting." There was still no response. "Did you hear me? Andrea, are you trying to get me punished alongside you? I'm talking to you! Say something!" The knocks grew louder until Erik was full-on banging on the door. The wooden door creaked under his fist, rattling as if it would cave and splinter. It was precisely the sound of impatient knocking that startled me awake a month ago. I'd found myself dragged out of bed, still in my sleepwear, and cornered in Dad's study. It began when I found a glitch in the app's programming. As long as we checked into the system at 4:44 am, our points would stack once by mistake. I told my only older brother, Erik, of this secret. "Look, Erik." I'd presented him with my phone as if it were some rare treasure. "This way, we won't lose our points!" He'd leaned in close and flashed me a gentle smile. "Is that right? You didn't tell Dad, did you?" I shook my head, thrilled by our conspiracy. "We're the only ones who know about this." Erik had ruffled my hair. "Clever little thing! Let's keep this to ourselves. Leave it to me." After that, I found myself in the study late at night, pinned under Dad's gaze as he sat behind his large, mahogany work desk. Erik stood behind him with his head low. "Well, aren't we brilliant, figuring out ways to play the system?" My heart sank. I glanced at Erik, but he avoided my gaze. At that moment, Dad's phone chimed with a notification. A mechanical female voice spelled out my crime and Erik's accomplishment, "User Erik Jacobson has reported system-cheating behavior and protected the integrity of the family rules. 200 points added." Erik heaved a sigh, as if he couldn't bear to see me punished. "It's for your own good, Andrea. We need to correct your misbehavior and ill intentions as soon as possible so you can become a qualified heir. It was why Dad created the app in the first place." He earned an approving look from Dad, prompting him to flash me a wider grin. I was plagued by countless nightmares after that. Erik's insincere grin was in all of them. The banging outside the door finally stopped. I heard Erik's footsteps disappear downstairs. "Dad, she's locked the door and refuses to open it!" There was a brief silence in the chapel, followed by Dad's angry growl. "Useless piece of trash!" First, there was the sound of furniture scraping against the floor. Then came the thud of heavy footsteps on the wooden staircase, growing louder as they approached me. At last, the footsteps stopped outside my door. A loud bang echoed off the walls. The door rattled. Dad hadn't knocked. He'd kicked the door. "Andrea! When I count to three, I want you out of that room! One!" He began to count. "Two!" The door remained shut. Whispers from the chapel rose through the floorboards. "How dare you disobey me!" Dad kicked the door. There was another bang. The next second, I heard him take out his phone and tap the screen frantically. He'd remembered the other weapon in his arsenal. "User Andrea Jacobson has broken family rules and refused to follow orders. Highest level of punishment initiated. The user is requested to open the door now." The mechanical female voice of the Family app hadn't sounded from my phone but from Dad's on the other side of the door. A second had passed since the order, then two. And yet, the door remained firmly shut. "Warning: Target user's equipment is offline. Unable to deliver order." For the first time, the digital shackles Dad had created had failed him. The discussion in the chapel grew louder. "Fighting back? Quite the rebel, aren't we? Get the spare key!" Dad roared. "Erik, get it from my study!" Erik's hurried footsteps faded into the distance before they returned just as hastily. The key slotted into the keyhole and turned. The door unlocked with a click and was pushed open, but the gap was no bigger than a finger's breadth before the door stopped short. There was a muffled thud, as if something had been propped against the door on the other side. "Dad, I can't push it all the way open." Erik's voice quaked. "Something's blocking it." "Move!" Dad shoved Erik aside, then took two steps back before lunging forward, shoving his shoulder against the door. A resounding bang echoed off the walls. The building seemed to shake, and the door creaked in protest. I couldn't help but tremble. The sound suddenly reminded me of the deafening whir of the paper shredder in the study. That day, Dad found a metal box under my bed during his weekly room check. Inside the metal box were the things I'd secretly stored away after Mom's passing—a few faded pictures I had with her and a couple of birthday cards she'd written me. Dad had taken the metal box to the study and tipped its contents onto the expensive mahogany desk while I watched. "What are these?" "My mom," I'd answered. "The dead should be buried and left in the trash bin inside our memories." He pinched the picture I'd taken with Mom on the beach between his fingers, lifting it from the pile. Mom's smile was bright in the picture. "Holding on to these useless emotions will only make you weak, and our family has no place for the weak." He turned on the paper shredder beside the desk. It roared to life and warmed up. Without another word, Dad fed the picture into the opening of the paper shredder. I watched as Mom's smiling face stretched out of shape between the blades and came out the other side in countless thin ribbons. "No." The word was barely more than a squeak as it escaped my throat. But Dad didn't stop. He picked up a card with Mom's delicate handwriting. "To my dearest Andie, happy birthday!" The paper shredder whirred and then clicked. Mom's written birthday blessing became a pile of colorful paper strips. Dad had fed all my useless emotions through the paper shredder. When he was done, he pointed at the small pile of colorful paper shreds. "Clean that up. I want that mess off my carpet." Presently, Dad's heavy panting came from the other side of the door. "Erik, come here! We'll knock this door down together!" "Yes, right away, Dad!" I heard two sets of footsteps shuffle around outside as they adjusted their positions. I also heard Dad and Erik draw deep breaths. Chapter 3 I heard two sets of footsteps shuffle around outside as Dad and Erik adjusted their positions. I also heard them draw deep breaths. Another bang. Another hard shove against the door, which caved under impact. A crack sounded through the air as the wood splintered. Terrified, I curled into a ball. The most painful memories buried deep in my soul swarmed over my head, drowning me. Breathing became difficult. It was the eve of Independence Day. In an attempt to show our family's united front, Dad held a barbecue specially for the occasion. Grease from the meat skewers dripped over crackling flames and red-hot charcoal, the heat rising from the pit carrying with it a mouthwatering, smoky scent. Our relatives sat huddled around the barbecue pit as if it were a camping event. Everyone was beaming and laughing. Erik perched beside me, diligently turning the skewers for Dad and addressing him with just the right amount of respect. Dad ate it up. "Erik's working on quite a forward-looking project in our company this year," Dad praised Erik's visionary work in front of our relatives. I lowered my head and poked a piece of meat with a skewer. Suddenly, I felt something icy being fished out from under my shirt collar. It was the silver necklace, the only thing Mom left behind. "What's this?" Erik pinched the small crescent moon pendant between his fingers. "It's already black with oxidation. Why are you still wearing it?" I tried to snatch it. "Give it back!" Erik raised his arm so that the necklace was out of my reach. He dangled it before Dad. "See what Andrea's got, Dad. She's still holding on to useless things like this necklace. Didn't you say that improvement comes to those who can part with things?" Dad's gaze lingered on the necklace for only a second. He said nothing, only picked up a large piece of meat from the grill, still dripping with grease, and set it on Erik's plate. "Here. Eat up." Only then did he take the necklace from Erik. He didn't so much as look at it. "Trash." Dad flicked his wrist, and the delicate silver necklace and its tiny crescent moon pendant drew an arc through the air, landing on the burning-hot grill. A hush settled around us. I watched as the silver necklace gradually discolored above the embers of the crackling charcoal, surrounded by smoke and grease. It wasn't long before the silver crescent moon turned black. No one spoke up for me. The relatives acted like they hadn't seen this turn of events. Erik even smiled as he speared the piece of meat Dad had put on his plate. He blew on it to cool it, then popped it into his mouth. His words came out muffled as he spoke around the chewed-up meat. "Thank you, Dad." Dad turned a skewer on the grill. "Eat your food." I stared at the food smoking on the grill. I wasn't hungry anymore. What was left of Mom was left to blacken among the scraps of food on the grill. It was just as well, I supposed, that the necklace went before me. With a final bang, the door caved open, and splinters flew everywhere. The door hadn't been shoved open as much as it had imploded. Its frame hung crookedly off the wall. Dad had shouldered the door open, and the momentum made him stagger as he barged into the room. Erik, equally winded, trailed after him. But they both stopped short. There was none of the mess and resistance they'd expected to be waiting for them in the room. On the contrary, everything was too organized. The books had been stacked neatly on the desk. The chair had been put away under the desk, too, and the curtains were open halfway. The afternoon sun spilled through the window at a slanted angle, illuminating a single spot on the floor. I lay quietly on the bed, wearing my favorite white dress. I was completely silent. Erik's breath grew shallow and erratic. Frowning, he hurried over to the bed. "What's playing dead going to do for you? Get up already…" His words died on his tongue. He reached for my arm to pull me out of bed, but drew his hand back the moment his fingertips grazed my skin. Such was not the temperature of a living person. Erik stared at me, then slowly and stiffly turned his gaze to my nightstand. On it was a bottle of sleeping pills, already emptied. My phone lay next to it, its screen still bright. The familiar interface of the Family app was on display. My total score was last recorded at a negative figure in red, and my name ranked lowest on the scoreboard. The blue icon was facing the entire room. Erik's face went from an angry shade of red to deathly white. He parted his lips to say something but couldn't seem to find his voice. A dry croak escaped his throat. He backed away, only to knock over the chair by the bed after his knees caved in. He fell in a heap. Dad froze at the door. Rage had been churning in his chest when he shoved the door open. The excuses he'd prepared and the show of fatherly love he was about to put on for the relatives popped like bubbles alongside Erik's wordless response. He looked past Erik's limp figure on the ground toward me, then noted the empty prescription bottle on my nightstand. At last, his gaze fixed on my still-bright phone screen. The admonishment and humiliation he'd prepared for me were now pointless. Meanwhile, the relatives in the chapel downstairs finally sensed the odd silence above them. Their frenzied whispering ended. Someone couldn't keep their curiosity at bay any longer and stood up, craning their neck to peer up the stairwell. Dad still stood at the door, unmoving. The judgment he'd readied for me had started. Only now, he was the subject.